


Sex, Love, and Architecture

by Anonymous



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Architect Cassian Andor, BDSM, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Boundaries, Brutalist Architecture, Caning, Canto Bight, Cunnilingus, Dominance, Double Penetration, Explicit Consent, F/M, Gags, Groping, Heavy Petting, Lawyer Jyn Erso, Legal Ethics, Louis Kahn, Master/Slave, Multi, Museums, Naked Female Clothed Male, Oral Sex, Panty Kink, Power Dynamics, Recreational Drug Use, Restraints, Ritual Sex, S&M, Submission, The Cantina at Mos Eisley, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Whipping, dominant!Cassian, ripped clothes, submissive!Jyn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26439610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Cassian Andor is fascinated by a beautiful lawyer he meets at the Canto Bight Hotel. That evening, she invites him to join her and her friends at a club in Mos Eisley. He could never have expected the wild night ahead of him.Jyn Erso has been wanting to explore a certain aspect of her sexuality, and when she meets a handsome architect while out of town at a conference, she thinks she's found her chance.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 31
Kudos: 43
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh, I’m sorry, please take it.”

“It’s OK, you go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“Please—I insist.”

Cassian gestured at the last muffin on the tray between himself and the woman he noticed as soon as she walked in the door of the Canto Bight Hotel’s breakfast bar. The staccato click of high heels on the marble floor made him look up, and from across the room he could see she had superlative legs, but it was her confident, imperious stride that caught his eye. Petite and slender, with chestnut hair swept back in an elegant knot, she cut an attractive figure in a sleek dark gray suit. As she glanced at him across the table, he found he couldn’t look away from her cool green eyes and her arresting face.

“I would never forgive myself for coming in between a woman and her breakfast.”

“Well, thank you, that’s very kind of you. Cloudberry muffins _are_ my favorite.” She plucked the muffin from the tray and put it on a small plate.

“Then the sacrifice was worth it.” They smiled, and he selected a croissant.

\------------------------

He saw her again later that day at the caf bar outside the hotel’s conference rooms.

“So….” Cassian ventured as filled his cup. “Lawyer or architect?”

“I’m sorry?” the woman gave him a bemused look.

“There are two conferences going on in this hotel—a legal conference and an architectural conference. So there’s a good chance you’re either a lawyer or an architect." He flicked his eyes over her. "Nice suit, high-necked blouse, all business. I’d say lawyer.”

“Guilty. And you….” It was her turn to examine him, and she took her time assessing his well-cut black suit, white dress shirt, black tie, and sleek black leather shoes. “That’s a very nice suit…but your tie is a bit too skinny, your shoes are shade unconventional, and your hair….” She eyed his stylishly tousled dark brown locks. “Your hair just screams architect.”

Cassian huffed out a laugh. “Ah, so you have an eye for detail. I thought for sure that the suit would have you fooled!” He self-consciously ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up even further. “In my profession, I rarely need to suit up, but I’m giving a talk later today.”

“Really, on what topic?”

“A comparative study of the two museums at Yavin University designed by Louis Kahn, one built just when his career was taking off, and the other completed after he died two decades later. I’m focusing on the evolution of his spatial sensibility and use of duracrete.”

“Fascinating. I’ve been to both museums and try to visit whenever I’m in Yavin. Each one is stunning, though I have to say I prefer the University Art Gallery, even though the layout of the galleries at the Center for Yavinese Art make for a better viewing experience.”

“Well now, that’s unconventional. Most people prefer the airiness and light of the Center.”

“Oh, no doubt the light makes everything look amazing. But the Art Gallery has a raw, brutalist aesthetic that somehow feels warm and intimate despite the heavy duracrete ceiling. It has a sense of…timelessness. I think it complements the sculpture collection particularly well.”

“I know exactly what you’re talking about. I have to be objective in my analysis, but on a gut level, I also prefer the Art Gallery. I spent a lot of time analyzing Kahn’s technical readouts for the tetrahedral design of the ceiling. He was one of the first to really explore the expressive potential of duracrete. So you’re into brutalism then?”

“Yes, but primarily from the early days of the Old Republic. I think that brutalism had become a caricature of itself by the High Republic period, and you can almost see the approaching apocalypse of the Imperial Era. I do believe architecture is a signifier of contemporary politics.”

“Now that's the kind of statement that would stir up a fierce debate at an architectural conference. Sounds like you could give this lecture yourself, counselor!”

“Ha, I’m just a fan. I’d sneak into your presentation if I didn’t have to prep for a panel discussion this afternoon.”

“Oh, what’s your panel about?”

“Ethical issues in nonprofit governance.”

“I've worked with a lot of nonprofits—always trying to do more with less. Someone has to keep them on the straight and narrow.” He was about to ask her to have a drink with him later when something over his shoulder caught her attention.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but my co-panelists are eager to start prepping for the presentation. It was really interesting to meet you! Good luck with your talk.”

“And good luck with yours, counselor.”

He watched her walk away, fascinated. If he ever met her again, he wouldn’t let her get away so easily.

\------------------------

Cassian was bored. His colleague Mon Mothma had invited a friend of hers to join their group for drinks at the hotel bar before they all went out to dinner. He would have much preferred to stay in and order room service—his lecture had been very well received, but he was exhausted after a long and exciting day talking with some of the top architects and real estate developers in the field. The bar was packed with high rollers from the casino next door, outrageously-dressed fashion models, slick hucksters, tourists, celebrities and their hangers-on, the odd politician, and security personnel trying but failing to blend into the background. He felt a headache coming on and pinched the bridge of his nose, but he couldn't leave just yet. Mon had cornered him and Kes Dameron earlier and let them know in no uncertain terms that they just _had_ to meet her friend Qi’ra. He decided to stay, not just because Mon was a partner at Fulcrum Architecture, but because she had mentored him when he first joined the firm, and over the years she’d become more of a friend than a colleague. He and Kes, another senior architect, were the only single men in the design department, and Mon had recently vowed to rescue them both from bachelorhood. “Qi’ra is just _dynamite_ , you'll love her,” she told them.

Qi’ra certainly _looked_ dynamite, he thought, admiring the brunette’s glamorous, perfectly styled hair, lacquered red lips, and the creamy expanses of skin revealed by the plunging neckline of her bodycon dress. She flirted openly with him and Kes, but he soon lost interest as she chatted interminably about her burgeoning career as a HoloNet influencer, her legions of followers, and the latest social media scandals. She was undeniably gorgeous, but he couldn’t fathom how Mon could have thought he’d be attracted to this kind of person. To be fair, Mon would have no way of knowing about his very specific preferences, as he kept certain aspects of his private life completely separate from work. He surreptitiously surveyed the room, looking for a certain other brunette and wondering how he could extricate himself from this situation without mortally offending Mon. Qi’ra was regaling the group with the saga of her latest flame war with another influencer, and Kes seemed taken with her, hanging on to every word. Her piercing voice rose above the competing din of the crowd and the house band, and Cassian was just about to plead a migraine when he caught sight of the woman sitting alone at the bar. The professional hairstyle she sported that morning had been loosened into a messy knot, and tendrils curled softly about her face. She was dressed in a simple but elegant cocktail dress that bared her shoulders and accented her lithe figure with a fitted bodice and flared skirt. Cassian felt his exhaustion melt away—here was his chance. “Cassian,” purred Qi'ra, tugging on his arm, “don’t you think she was completely out of line? I was literally _dying_ from shock!” Cassian nodded distractedly. He excused himself to go to the restroom and took a circuitous route to the bar.

The woman sat sipping her cocktail and idly scanning the room. Their eyes locked as Cassian approached, and she smiled and gave a small nod of recognition. He tried hard not to stare. Her luminous, kohl-rimmed eyes were set off by the dark green velvet of her dress, and a rough-cut crystal dangled from a delicate chain around her neck, leading his eyes down to the gentle swell of her breasts. The superlative legs he had admired that morning were clad in sheer black stockings, and her feet were shod in a pair of dangerous-looking black stiletto heels. Dressed to kill, he thought. He was already a goner.

“Counselor.” He tried to fly casual. “How was your panel?”

“Better than usual, I must say. This is the third time I'm moderating the ethics panel, and the discussion is typically sedate, but this year we had a juicy scandal to liven things up.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me—I want to know what qualifies as a juicy scandal in the law world.”

“Well, last month the director of a world-famous art museum was fired without notice and immediately escorted off the premises. Apparently she had hired her lover for a plum position and didn’t disclose the relationship, then forced her staff to cover up the conflict of interest. This wasn’t the first time she had violated the ethics rules, and it turns out she had been under investigation for months. She’s a leading figure in the art world, so this caused quite a stir.”

“I’d say that’s pretty juicy. Did her lover get fired too?”

“He did. _She_ fired him—after they broke up! The Inspector General’s report was released yesterday, and it's all everyone’s talking about. How about you, how did your lecture go?”

“As well as I could have hoped. You’ll be interested to know that I polled the audience on whether they thought the University Art Gallery or the Center for Yavinese Art was the superior design, and about three quarters of the room voted for the Center. Typical, huh?”

“If it's any consolation, you know which way I would have voted.”

“Indeed, though you and I would sadly have been in the minority. But there was a good Q&A session afterwards, and I made some new contacts, including several real estate developers from Coruscant. We’ve been thinking of opening a field office there, and I think my presentation may generate some new business for my firm.”

“Excellent! What’s the name of your firm?” Her comm unit buzzed on the table before he could answer. “Oh, my transport’s almost here. Sorry, I have to go.”

“Where are you off to?” He wasn’t about to let her slip away again if he could help it.

“I’m meeting some friends at a club in the Mos Eisley district.” She paused and looked at him speculatively. “You strike me as the adventurous type. In case you don’t have plans, would you care to join us?”

Cassian immediately ran through a dozen possibilities for ditching his group. He could just text Mon and say he’d developed a migraine….

“Oooh, there you are!” He turned to see Qi’ra bearing down on them.

“I’d like to, but my friends….” He gestured helplessly.

“Ah,” she said, eyeing Qi’ra. “You’re busy, of course.” She slipped off the barstool and turned to go, but hesitated and tentatively put a hand on his arm. She looked up at him, their faces close enough that he could see the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “Maybe later?” she said in a low voice. “I’m not usually this forward, but…I hope to see you. The Cantina in Mos Eisley.”

Cassian nodded. “I’ll be there.” He watched as she walked away from him for the second time that day.

“Who was that?” Qi'ra asked when she reached Cassian’s side.

“Just some lawyer attending a conference here.”

“Really. You would think she could afford something nicer than last season’s Vanar,” sniffed Qi'ra. She waved at the bartender. “Can I get a Twi'lek Sunrise?”

Cassian tried not to roll his eyes. It was going to be a long evening.


	2. Chapter 2

“The Cantina at Mos Eisley, please.”  
  
The elderly cabbie peered at him and scratched his thinning, silvery hair. “Mos Eisley? You sure you want to head over there this time of night?”  
  
“Yes, it will be fine.”

Cassian sank into the back seat of the taxi and closed his eyes. Dinner had been a drawn-out affair. Thankfully, Qi’ra had plastered herself to Kes’ side, so he was free to talk with Mon and Davits Draven, the other partner at Fulcrum Architecture. He briefed them on the contacts he had made at the conference and the intel he had gathered on several potential building projects. Draven was looking for a high-profile project to take the firm to the next level, and he and Mon were particularly interested to learn that the Coruscanti government was funding the construction of a new art museum on the last remaining vacant plot of land on Monument Plaza, right at the foot of the hill upon which stood the imposing Senate Building. In recent years, the firm had won awards for their work on a university library and a hospital, but they had never received a commission to design a museum, nor had they ever secured a project in Coruscant, the seat of government and the center of power and influence for the last two centuries. Building a major cultural institution, on Monument Plaza no less, would place Fulcrum Architecture on par with the top architectural firms in the world.  
  
And it could set him up for a partnership, Cassian thought, if he could make it happen. “With a project that size,” he observed, “we would need to a open a field office in Coruscant. This would be the perfect opportunity to expand our practice beyond Yavin. I’ll check my sources and see if we can get on the inside track on this project.”  
  
“Excellent work, Andor,” said Draven.  
  
“We appreciate your taking the initiative to investigate these leads,” added Mon. “Keep us informed.”

If he was being honest with himself, he also needed a change. It wasn’t that he didn’t like working at Fulcrum. The work was definitely challenging—Draven and Mon expected nothing less than excellence, but they were consistently supportive, and his knowledge and skill had grown exponentially under their tutelage. His colleagues were great, and they made a good team. He enjoyed being close to his alma mater, Yavin University, and with the firm’s office located in the heart of the colorful arts district, and his home just a half-hour away from the city, he was in an ideal situation. In fact, he might never have thought of expanding his horizons beyond Yavin but for what he learned that day. Coruscant was the big league: the hub of culture, education, finance, fine arts, and politics. Somehow it held a vague sense of promise for him. It had been a while since felt this excited about a potential project.  
  
He was jolted from his reverie by the sudden bounce of the taxi going over a large pothole. They were a considerable distance away from Canto Bight, and it looked like they were entering the industrial district of Mos Eisley. Row after row of desolate factories and warehouses lined the poorly lit streets, and he wondered for the nth time what the hell he was doing, chasing after some nameless, albeit fascinating woman. If he weren’t so damn particular, he could be banging Qi’ra right now.  
  
The taxi ground to a halt. “Here we are.” The driver pointed at a run-down building with no windows and no signs of life but for a red neon sign that flashed “CANTI A” insistently. The dark street was empty and deserted.  
  
“You sure you want to be dropped off here?”  
  
Cassian hesitated. The door of the club burst open and music and light spilled out. A man hurtled through the air and cursed savagely as he hit the ground. An incredibly tall, brawny bouncer growled at him from the doorway. “And don’t even think of coming back!”  
  
Cassian grimaced. “Is there another cantina in Mos Eisley?” he said hopefully. The driver turned around and regarded him with sprightly, blue eyes. “No, this is it. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.”  
  
“I’ll be sure to watch my back. Thanks.” Cassian paid the fare and got out of the taxi. With a sense of forbidding, he watched it drive away. It was just past midnight, and she was probably gone by now. He figured that since he’d already come this far, he might as well check it out. After getting thoroughly frisked by the intimidating bouncer and paying a 100 credit cover charge to see the evening’s “special guest headliners,” he stepped into the dark, cavernous main room of the club.  
  
It was a full house, and he realized it would be near impossible to find the woman among the rowdy crush of people, if she was even still here. The room stank of alcohol, sweat, and death sticks; occasionally he caught a whiff of something more exotic. The club’s patrons were a motley cast of characters; rough-looking men and women laughed raucously and caroused in the dark corners and alcoves of the room, while scantily-clad servers scurried about delivering orders. A four-piece band played the swinging, bouncy jass that Mos Eisley was famous for, and the crowd hummed with an expectant energy under which Cassian sensed a potential for sudden violence. He kept alert, constantly moving, searching, and growing more discouraged with each passing moment.  
  
He accidentally bumped into a man with a badly scarred face. “Hey!” the man shouted belligerently, “You just watch yourself.” He was drunk and obviously spoiling for a fight. Cassian raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “No, no. Tourist. Don’t want any trouble, sorry.” He quickly walked away.  
  
A crowd had congregated at the foot of the stage up front. There was no way he was making his way through the wall of people without getting into some serious trouble. He was already on his way out, but decided to do one last pass by the bar at the back of the room, when he finally spotted her.  
  
He heard her ordering a drink from the bartender as he approached. “Gin on the rocks.”  
  
“Make that two,” he said, sliding into the tight space beside her.

Her eyes lit up. “You made it! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“One doesn’t just ignore an invitation from a beautiful woman.” She lowered her eyes and blushed prettily. If anything, she looked even more alluring in the dim, golden light, and he wondered if it was an effect of the licentious atmosphere all around them, or whatever mind-altering drug was in the second-hand smoke that pervaded the club. “This place is so odd and out of the way.” He looked around them. “And the crowd is rather…unconventional. Not at all what I expected from you—all buttoned up and professional as you were today. I’m intrigued.”  
  
“I thought you might be up for an adventure—something different from the everyday.”  
  
“Sure, I’m up for it. But now that I’m here, I’m wondering just what your definition of adventure might be.”  
  
She smiled impishly at him. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”  
  
The bartender slid their drinks across the bar towards them. They clinked their glasses, and Cassian closed his eyes as the gin burned its way pleasantly down his throat. “Ah, this is the good Corellian stuff,” he said, swirling the glass under his nose and enjoying the spicy, botanical aroma.  
  
“Apparently the club’s owner knows a smuggler who can get it directly from bootleggers in Corellia.”  
  
“Now how would a person like you know something like that?” He smirked at her over the rim of his glass.  
  
“Let’s just say I have connections.” Her eyes twinkled up at him. Emboldened, he put his hand on the bar and leaned in closer to her. "Your behavior, counselor, is continually unexpected."

“Jyn.” A dark, elegantly slender man dressed in an expensive-looking suit slid an arm protectively around her shoulders. “Is this man bothering you?”

So the mystery lady has a name, noted Cassian, feeling a stab of jealousy as he noticed the man’s hand slip down to her waist.

“No, it’s alright, Bodes, I asked him to come. He’s attending an architecture conference at the hotel. This is uh….” She looked at Cassian expectantly.

“Willix.” By instinct, he offered an alias used by a spy in his favorite sci-fi movie.

“Bodhi. Good to meet you, Willix.” He turned to Jyn. “Show’s gonna start soon. I got a table up front. Follow me.”

Jyn slipped off the barstool. “Come on, Willix” she said with a teasing smile as she grabbed his hand and followed Bodhi through the throng of people jockeying for a good view. He led them to the side of the room and up a couple steps to a semi-circular booth with an excellent view of the stage. A young blond man in a stylish white linen jacket lounged among the deep cushions, smoking a fat cigarra.

Bodhi sat down beside him. “Luke, this is Jyn and Willix.” Luke smiled and raised his hand in greeting as they slid into the booth. He seem dazed, the pupils of his big blue eyes blown wide. “I ordered some fizz,” he said, leaning on Bodhi’s shoulder and offering him the cigarra. Bodhi accepted it and took a drag before passing it to Jyn, who took it from him with her thumb and forefinger. Cassian watched with a mixture of surprise and fascination as she inhaled, and blinked when she blew out a cloud of smoke that enveloped his head in a fog of whatever it was he had caught a whiff of earlier. She offered the cigarra to him with a questioning look.

“This cigarra has a different smell,” he said, taking it from her. “What’s in it?”

“Just a touch of marcan herb,” said Luke with an angelic smile. “It’s a very chill high.”

Cassian wondered if this night could get any stranger. He had gone this far, and might as well go all in. He took a drag, held it, and slowly exhaled through his nostrils, savoring the fragrant herb. He was no stranger to recreational drugs, but it had been a while since he last indulged. He felt a little light-headed.

“Good stuff, Luke. Thanks.” He handed the cigarra back to Luke. A server deposited a bucket of champagne on ice at their table. Bodhi filled some glasses with the effervescent golden liquid and passed them around. “Kanpai!” he toasted his companions, before tossing back a mouthful.

“Kanpai…that’s Jedhan, isn’t it?” asked Cassian.

“Yes,” answered Bodhi. “It’s where I grew up. Used to be a cargo pilot, made a lot of runs between here and Jedha. I had friends in Mos Eisley, so I decided to move out here a few years ago.”

“Bodhi manages the group that’s performing tonight,” Jyn said after taking a long drag on the cigarra. “They're from Jedha too. I saw them when they were on tour a few months ago.” She had a peculiar grin on her face as she passed the cigarra to Cassian. “I hope you like the show.”

Against his better judgment, he took another puff and held his breath. “I hope I do, given the cover charge!” He released a cloud of smoke. “What kind of music do they play?”

“Oh, it’s not music, it’s…performance art.”

Cassian huffed a laugh. “That covers a multitude of sins.”

“No really, they’re incredibly skilled, just the best in their field.”

Bodhi’s comm unit buzzed. He checked the message and rose from the table. “The guys are about to go on, and Luke and I gotta get backstage. We'll see you after the show, right?”  
  
“Yes. Thanks Bodes! See you guys later.” said Jyn.

“You have interesting friends,” Cassian said with a raised eyebrow when they were alone.

“I've known Bodhi for years. He and Luke are the best.”

“No doubt, they seem really nice. And they hooked us up with a pretty sweet spot.”

The plush alcove was secluded and afforded them a measure of privacy. Cassian settled into the cushions and tipped his head back, feeling the full effects of the herb. He was a little hazy, but mostly relaxed. He felt…good. Really good. He took in the scene before him, enjoying how the music and colors and everything seemed so much more vivid and intense. He turned to Jyn and thought about how beautiful she looked, all smoky eyes, soft shoulders, and pink lips. The crystal pendant of her necklace glimmered against the enticing swell of her breasts. He felt a wave of desire for her, and wondered if she was feeling the same way, suddenly very aware of where their thighs pressed warmly against each other.

She was looking right back at him, her gaze soft and dreamy. “I’m really glad you came,” she murmured as the house lights dimmed and a single spotlight appeared at the center of the stage.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tags have been updated. Mind the tags.

  
“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls!” Bodhi stood in the spotlight at the center of the stage. “Welcome to the Cantina! You’re in for a very special treat. For your extreme viewing pleasure, we present to you tonight—direct from the ancient city of Jedha—the High Priests of the Temple of the Kyber—the Grandmasters of Ropu-bondeji—the legendary Guardians of the Whills!!!” The audience clapped and hooted and cheered wildly.

“It’s been over a year since Master Chirrut Îmwe and Master Baze Malbus brought the house down here at the Cantina, and we are so very thrilled to welcome them back. They are joined this evening by Mos Eisley’s very own Oola!”

“Before we begin the show, a few ground rules. The Cantina is a place where you naughty folks can be as naughty as you please. But as always, consent is golden—especially here. Within these walls, no means no. And that applies everywhere, except for the stage, of course!” Some people in the audience tittered, and the crowd stirred expectantly. “Seriously,” Bodhi continued, “violators of the golden rule will be escorted off the premises immediately. NO exceptions. We mean it!”

“What the kriff.” Cassian huffed in surprise. It suddenly all made sense to him. He turned to Jyn. “So this is your idea of ‘adventurous’?”

“Whatever do you mean?” her eyes widened innocently, but a knowing smile played about her lips.

Cassian shook his head disbelievingly. “You bad girl,” he muttered. A karking ropu-bondeji show. He never could have expected this in a million years.

“And now, without further ado—please make some noise for Chirrut Îmwe, Baze Malbus, and the sublime, the divine Oola!”

The crowd burst into thunderous applause as the stage went black. The room sank into a pregnant hush, occasionally broken by piercing wolf whistles.

Ambient music, dark and ominous, filled the room. The curtains parted and a spotlight revealed a man dressed in traditional Jedhan robes. With his slight figure and close-cropped hair, he had the demeanor of an ascetic monk. In one hand, he held a long, thin cane, which he rapped twice on the ground in front of him. He raised his milky, sightless eyes and walked forward, coming to a stop when his cane bumped up against a massive steel frame that had been set up on the stage.

“That’s Chirrut,” whispered Jyn. Another figure stepped into the light—a tall, muscular, barrel-chested man with flowing, jet black hair and fierce, angular features. “And here comes Baze with Oola.”

Baze strode forward and yanked on a rope that bound the wrists of a statuesque beauty. Oola had the impressive physique of a professional dancer and striking features crowned by two thick, silvery-green braids that reached down to her hips. Her curvaceous body was encased in a skimpy black fishnet bodystocking that barely concealed her breasts and crotch. She stumbled forward as Baze pulled her under the horizontal crossbeam of the steel frame. He threw the rope up and over the beam and pulled Oola’s arms taut above her head, forcing her to stand on her tiptoes. She gasped and struggled helplessly against her restraints, fighting to keep her balance as he tied the rope securely to the bottom rail.

A slow, heavy, syncopated drumbeat rumbled throughout the room. Chirrut cocked his head and listened intently to Oola’s soft cries. He reached out unerringly to caress her face and trace the contours of her eyebrows, cheekbones and generous lips with pale, delicate fingers. His hand glided down the flesh revealed by her plunging neckline and slid under the fabric that covered her breast. Oola whimpered and tried to wriggle away from him, prompting Baze to come up behind her and pin her torso to his massive chest. He seized the flimsy fishnet material in his fists and tore it open from neckline down to crotch, revealing a voluptuous body endowed with heavy breasts, shapely hips, and long, muscular legs. Oola shrieked and twisted wildly, trying to break free of Baze’s embrace, but her struggles were futile. The audience roared its approval as he shredded the rest of her outfit, leaving her completely naked and exposed. He stuffed a wad of the material in her mouth and tied it in place with a long strip that he knotted behind her head.

Chirrut fixed his gaze on the far wall and began exploring Oola’s body, gliding his hands from her wrists, down her arms and back. He fondled and weighed each breast. He felt the length and texture of her braids. He mapped the curve of her waist and hips, then dropped to his knees so he could trace the elegant lines of her thighs and calves all the way down to her feet, learning the shape of her entire body. His hands traveled up the backs of her legs and cupped her buttocks, then made their way to her pelvis. She whined behind her gag and shivered visibly when he ran his fingers through the luxuriant hair that shielded her sex.

The heavy drums boomed and abruptly ceased.

Chirrut stood up. “Cut her down, Baze.”

A flurry of percussive beats overlayed by the metallic twang of mandoviols filled the room, creating a tense, almost frantic atmosphere. Baze drew a short knife from a scabbard around his waist and obligingly sliced through the ropes binding Oola’s wrists, then firmly pulled her arms behind her back.

Chirrut produced a fibrous rope from the depths of his robe. He slipped it around Oola’s neck and knotted it securely at her breastbone, then proceeded to bind her chest in a star-shaped pattern. He passed the rope back to his partner, who cinched her arms by weaving the rope in an intricate braid from her upper arms down to her wrists. Together they moved skillfully and fluidly, creating an elaborate harness that encircled her breasts and looped around her chest and waist. Baze securely knotted a long rope to the back of the harness, threw it over the crossbeam, and hauled her up until she was dangling facedown a couple feet off the ground. She hung bonelessly, transformed into a dynamic living sculpture, the ropes squeezing her flesh to create geometric shapes that provided an aesthetic counterpoint to her body’s natural curves and recesses.

Cassian could hardly believe his eyes. He’d heard of ropu-bondeji, the traditional Jedhan art of erotic rope bondage, and he’d even seen a holo once, but live shows were extremely rare. The practice had been outlawed in certain territories because of bungled amateur suspension attempts that had resulted in accidental nerve damage, paralysis, and even death. As a result, there were very few practitioners of this esoteric ritual, which looked deceptively simple, but took years of training to master. Simultaneously sacred and taboo, the art form had evolved to incorporate sex and sado-masochism during the last century. He found the combination of intimate erotic restraint and power exchange extremely arousing.

He glanced at his companion, wondering what she thought of all this. Jyn’s lips were parted as she raptly watched the scene unfold.

He leaned over and whispered, “Is this turning you on?”

She said nothing, eyes riveted to the stage.

Chirrut stood behind Oola and ran his hand up and down her rump, trying to locate the plumpest part of her ass. The lips of her cunt, peeping through between her legs, were inches away from his face.

“Baze,” called Chirrut, holding out his hand. “My cane.”

Baze handed him the long, thin rod, and he lashed at the soft mounds of Oola’s ass. She yelped and her body jerked spasmodically. The cane whistled through the air a second time and smacked into the backs of her thighs, just below her pussy lips. The pain knocked the breath out of her, and she convulsed silently, her blood-red lips forming a perfect “O.” She thrashed as the whipping intensified, sobbing piteously, kicking her legs wildly as she struggled to avoid Chirrut’s blows, which landed with relentless precision. A network of angry red welts bloomed on her skin.

Cassian leaned a bit closer and breathed in the faint scent of Jyn’s perfume, something sweet and sensual. He murmured in her ear. “Do you want someone to do that to you?”

Jyn felt his warm breath caress the sensitive skin of her neck. She suppressed a shiver, but remained silent. By now, Chirrut had tied a rope around Oola’s knee and raised one leg while the other dangled down, exposing her glistening cunt for all to see. He gave her leg a gentle push, and she spun slowly like an ornament on a Life Day tree.

“Is that why you invited me here, Jyn?”

His question seemed to jolt her out of her reverie. She looked at him and appeared to be on the verge of saying something, but dropped her gaze down to her lap, where her hands twisted nervously. He could sense her indecision, and waited patiently for her answer.

“Yes,” she whispered tremulously after a long pause.

He tipped up her chin and forced her to look at him. “I didn’t hear you,” he said. “What did you say?”

“I said yes. That’s why I asked you to come.”

“I see.” He let go of her chin, and settled his hand upon her knee. His arm went around her shoulders.

“Then tell me what you want,” he said in a low voice, as he slipped his hand under her skirt and caressed the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh through her silky stockings. She bit her lip and seemed to be struggling with an inner turmoil. He tightened his grip on her thigh. “Tell me,” he insisted.

She looked at him with a strained expression on her face, something in between fear, humiliation, and excitement. She finally spoke, her voice soft but clear. “I want you to take me back to my hotel room. Tie me up and play with my tits and cunt. Make me suck your cock. Spank me until I’m begging you to fuck me. I want it hard, fast, and rough.”

He stared at her for a long moment as he silently assessed the situation. “I think I could do that for you,” he said, his even voice belying his intense excitement.

“Do you have any experience in domination?”

“I do—strictly amateur, of course. I usually prefer my partners to be submissive. Have you ever submitted to anyone before?”

“No, but I’ve been very curious, ever since I first saw Baze and Chirrut perform. It’s just that I’ve never met anyone….” She let the sentence trail off, distracted by what was happening on the stage.

Oola’s body hung at an angle, her feet higher than her head, breasts dangling down through the harness. Her ankles were spread wide, tied to the ends of her braids, and her body was stretched into a taut, graceful arc. Chirrut had his arms wrapped around her bucking hips, trying to hold her still as he burrowed his face into her cunt, while Baze tore off her gag and rubbed the bulbous tip of his prodigious cock across her lips.

Cassian’s hand wandered further up Jyn’s thigh and squeezed, demanding her attention. “You mean you’ve never met anyone that could dominate you and make you submit.”

“Yes—and then I met you today. I don’t know why, but somehow I got the sense that you might be the kind of person…who knows how to take control. I invited you here because I wanted to see your reaction. If I were ever to submit to a stranger, now is the perfect time and place.” 

“I’m glad you asked me to come. I wanted you from the moment I saw you.” He chuckled softly. “I have a confession to make. I don’t like muffins at all. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.” His hand reached the apex of her thighs, and he pressed his thumb into the damp gusset of her stockings.

“Oh,” was all she could say. She made a small, undulating movement and clamped her legs around his hand.

“No, no, spread your legs,” he instructed. “Wider. That’s it…that’s it. Relax, no one can see us.” His thumb lazily stroked her center as he nuzzled into the column of her neck. “So you want me to tie you up and punish you. You want me to use your body to take my pleasure.”

“Yes,” she whispered with a shuddering sigh, arching her neck to give him more access.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice low and demanding. She complied, and his eyes bore into hers. His hand firmly cupped her mound. “I’ll be your Master tonight. From now on, you will address me as ‘Sir’. Do you understand?”

“Yes…Sir.” She felt melting heat between her legs at the thought of subjugating herself to his will.

“Good girl.” He removed his hand from underneath her skirt. “I want you to do something for me. Go to the bathroom and take off your panties, then come back here and give them to me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And keep your stockings on. Go.”

She nodded and slipped out of the booth. Cassian watched her disappear into the crowd, hardly able to believe that this gorgeous, fascinating woman had not only offered him her body, but also wanted to submit to him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Between her propositioning him and the live sex show that was happening onstage, he was well on his way to developing a raging hard-on. He watched as Chirrut cut the ropes that suspended Oola’s body, letting her fall into Baze’s waiting arms.

Before long, Jyn was back at his side. She pressed a wisp of black lace into his palm, which he sniffed at with evident satisfaction. “Good,” he said, pocketing her panties. “You’ve pleased your Master. And now tell me your hard limits.”

“Hard limits?”

“Your boundaries. Things that are a definite no-no for you.”

“Oh…I’m new to this, so I don’t want anything too extreme.”

“No, you’re going to have to be specific. For example, some people consider choking and fisting as extreme, but some don’t.”

“No, that’s definitely too extreme for me.”

“Okay. Now you said you want to be tied up. How do you feel about blindfolds or gags?”

“No, I’m not ready for that.”

“Got it. Vaginal sex? Oral? Anal?”

“Yes to vaginal and oral, but no anal.”

“Hmmm…alright. Can I lick your asshole, though?” She flushed at the crudeness of his words but at the same time felt a twinge of excitement. “I guess that would be okay.”

“Good.” He smiled, his mouth watering at the thought of what was to come.

“Any injuries or sensitive areas that I need to be aware of?”

“No.”

“Anything else that concerns you?”

“I need you to use a condom.”

“Of course. We’ll get some on the way back. And you mentioned spanking—what’s your tolerance for pain?”

“I’m really not sure,” she began uncertainly.

“So let’s use a safeword.”

“A safeword?”

“Just a word, any word other than ‘no’ or ‘stop,’ that you would say if you wanted me to stop.”

“How about ‘muffin?’” She smiled mischievously.

He grinned. “‘Muffin’ it is. But seriously, if you start to feel uncomfortable, or things get too intense, just say it, and I’ll stop immediately.”

“Okay. That’s reassuring. And how about you—what do you like, and what are your hard limits?”

Cassian chuckled. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you need to be worried about my hard limits. I do like to talk dirty. Would that bother you?”

“Actually…I think I might like that.”

“You naughty girl. Who would have thought your looks could be so deceiving.” He caressed her face wonderingly. “You’re sure you want this?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I want this. But before we leave, I need to check in with Bodhi and let him know I’m going. Would you mind, Sir?”

“Not at all.”

Jyn tried to comm Bodhi several times, but he didn’t answer. She imagined it might be noisy backstage, so she quickly tapped out a message.

Cassian turned his attention to the stage where the three performers writhed together on the floor in a tangled mass of flesh. Oola’s arms were still bound, and she was impaled on Baze’s cock. He worked her hips, fucking up into her while Chirrut knelt behind her, squeezing her breasts and pulling at her nipples. She gasped ecstatically with each thrust, her cries escalating in volume and pitch. Finally Baze silenced her by grabbing her face and pulling her down to him, kissing her deeply and exposing her ass to Chirrut, who stroked his thin, remarkably long cock and lined it up against her nether entrance.

“Okay, I sent him a message.” Jyn had to raise her voice over the crowd cheering the trio on as they fucked each other for all they were worth. “We’ll miss the finale but….”

“I don’t mind at all. Let’s go.” Cassian rose and stepped out of the booth. Jyn lingered to watch as Chirrut and Baze took a pause from pounding Oola to share a passionate kiss. She took Cassian’s proffered hand, and they made their way towards the exit, where a big bowl of condoms was conveniently placed by the door. “That’s thoughtful,” Cassian muttered under his breath as he grabbed a handful of the colorful packets and stuffed them into the pocket of his jacket.

“Jyn!” a voice called out. She turned around and saw Bodhi running up to them, out of breath. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, we uh…Willix is taking me back to the hotel.” Jyn squirmed under Bodhi’s gaze, hoping that her meaning was clear. She quickly switched topics to avoid being grilled in public. “Chirrut and Baze were fantastic, as usual, and they had amazing chemistry with Oola. Would you tell them I said hi?”

“Of course. They’ll be sorry to miss you, but I’m sure they’ll understand.” He smirked at her, clearly understanding what was going on, but his expression turned doubtful. “Willix—you bring her straight back to her hotel room, no detours, ok?”

“Absolutely, that’s the plan,” Cassian reassured him.

Bodhi turned to Jyn. “I’m going to call your room after I finish up here, and you better answer.”

“Bodhi, come on. You’re not my father!”

“Yeah, but I know your father, and he will absolutely murder me if anything happens to you! Just answer the phone, okay?”

“Sure thing, Bodes.”

“I’m serious! Promise?” Bodhi insisted.

“Okay, okay! I promise.”

Bodhi glared at Cassian. “If she doesn’t answer, I’m calling the cops. Got it?”

Cassian nodded, “Got it. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she answers.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.” Bodhi smiled in spite of himself. He knew that Jyn had been wanting to explore her sexuality, and was glad that she’d finally worked up the nerve to do so, and with a sinfully gorgeous hottie no less.

“Have fun kids, and be safe.” Bodhi sighed resignedly and kissed Jyn on the cheek. “I’ll let you know next time we’re in Coruscant, maybe we can all grab a meal before the show.”

Coruscant, noted Cassian. Interesting.

Bodhi looked Cassian in the eye. “Willix—you take good care of her now.”

Cassian nodded. “Don’t worry, Bodhi, I will.”

“Goodbye, Bodhi.” Jyn sighed with pointed relief as he left.

“That was...interesting. Is he your chaperone?” Cassian teased.

“I'm really sorry about that. He’s just protective. He isn’t that much older, but he’s been like a big brother to me since we met at school.”

“He doesn’t know me from Adam, so I get it. You’re lucky to have someone looking out for you.”

They walked out into the chilly night air. Jyn shivered as they waited for the cab that “Willix” had commed. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, relishing how well their bodies fit together, how her face tucked right in the crook of his neck. He tipped her chin up so she was looking at him, their faces inches apart. Her desire was naked on her face, and he was dying to taste her mouth, but held himself back. She was confounding and mysterious, and she had knocked his world off kilter, momentarily at least. He wanted to make it clear that he was the one in control.  


They looked up at the sound of an approaching taxi and were momentarily blinded by its headlights.

  
“Listen,” he said. “When you get in the cab, I want you to cross your arms behind your back and open your legs. Keep them spread for me. Can you do that?”

  
Her eyes widened. “Yes, Sir,” she said breathlessly, her body tingling with anticipation.

  
“Good girl,” he murmured. “You want to be good for me, don't you?” She shivered in his arms, but it wasn’t from the cold. The taxi drew up to the curb, and he opened the door for her.

  
“Get in.”


End file.
